


Trapped

by Spectral_Mist, Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Series: The order of things [3]
Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectral_Mist/pseuds/Spectral_Mist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Egon is critically injured during a promotional event and his chances of survival are slim. Peter risks everything in order to save Egon’s life.Continuation toSecond SkinandIn Reverse Order.
Relationships: Egon Spengler/Peter Venkman
Series: The order of things [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567762
Comments: 18
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh my god, what did I do?! What did I do?!”

“Relax, man. This isn’t your fault. Dial 9-1-1.”

“Oh my god! Egon!”

“ _Louis_! Stop fucking around and make the call!”

Peter blocked out the argument that Winston was having with Louis, instead concentrating hard on Egon. There were shattered pieces of burnt metal all around them, littering the floor of the mega popular _Retro Toy Trove_. Collapsed shelves and broken toys formed a mountain of plastic chaos in the back of the shop, while a downed trail of singed bicycles lined the front window - or what was left of it. Blast marks covered the walls and ceiling, the residual heat from the burns melting poster advertisements on the walls and peeling off the paint. The lighting fixtures hung dangerously low by their mangled chords, flickering off and on with an electrical buzzing noise. The air was thick with smoke, making it nearly impossible to fight back the coughing fit that Peter could feel building up in his airways. Still, he forced the urge to cough down, along with the need to blink. His eyes felt painfully raw and were overflowing with tears - tears that had nothing to do with the smoke and everything to do with Egon.

_“It hurts_...,” Egon moaned, his usually deep voice an octave or two higher than usual, and much weaker. His entire body tensed suddenly, as it had several times within the past five minutes, the agony wrenching a long, drawn out cry from him.

“I know, baby. I know,” Peter said soothingly as he caressed Egon’s face with one trembling hand, his other hand gripping Egon’s fiercely. He was doing his best to remain calm, even though his skin felt cold and clammy, and he was beginning to sweat profusely. The only part of him that was not revealing any signs of panic was his voice. He kept his tone even and professional, encouraging Egon to keep fighting. “We just need you to hang on a little longer, okay? An ambulance is on its way.”

Egon squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pressed his lips firmly together in the futile attempt to keep anymore shameful noises to himself. But he ended up whimpering pathetically as more stabbing pains wracked his body, leaving him in more tears and distress.

“ _Peter_...”

Peter leaned down, as close as he could get to Egon without touching the long shard of metal that had impaled the physicist through the chest, and kissed him on the lips. “I’m here, Egon. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” On Egon’s other side, Winston was pressing a balled up t-shirt hard against Egon’s abdomen, staunching the blood flow from the other injury. There wasn’t enough space to really embrace Egon or adequate privacy for Peter to say what he really wanted to say. That jagged piece of metal was acting as a cruel barrier between Peter and the man he loved, and trying to maneuver around it only brought Peter’s left shoulder in contact with Winston’s tense arms.

“Watch it, man,” Winston warned through gritted teeth. “You don’t want me letting go.”

That was the understatement of the year. If Winston were to let go, it would take mere seconds for Egon to bleed out and then it would all be over.

Not wanting to do anything that might jeopardize Egon’s chances of survival, Peter quickly shifted to his right, and away from the stab wound.

“... he’s _really_ bad... in a lot of pain... trying to stop the bleeding...”

Peter tuned out Louis’ conversation with the emergency dispatcher and listened to Egon’s breathing instead. The physicist was not inhaling or exhaling normally. All Peter could hear were short incomplete gasps for breath, followed by more whimpering and moaning, before Egon exhaled shakily.

“RAY!” Peter hollered over his shoulder, his voice cracking and giving away his true mental state.

“The proton beam was never intended to be used as a laser,” Ray blurted out from somewhere near the broken display case of Barbie dolls and Christmas Santas. “I’m trying to fine tune it, but I can’t regulate the power flow. Even at this low intensity, a stray spark could kill him.” A few seconds later, Ray slammed his thrower into what was left of the shattered display case and shouted, “ _Dammit_!”

Already, Egon was beginning to shiver uncontrollably, all the color having drained out of him minutes earlier. They couldn’t wait for the paramedics to arrive before attempting to free Egon from the stake pinning him to the floor of the destroyed toy shop. If they didn’t do something to treat Egon’s wounds and warm him up, he would deteriorate past the point of saving.

Peter brushed his thumb over Egon’s cold cheeks, not knowing what else to do but try and dry Egon’s tears. But Egon was now weeping openly, the pain so unbearable that he could do nothing to tolerate it. Those gentle brown eyes that Peter adored so much were dilated with both agony and fear - the fear of dying. Of being alone. And the uncertainty of what was waiting for him on the other side. “It’s alright,” Peter whispered near Egon’s ear. “I’m not gonna let you go. Do you hear me, Egon?”

The Christmas publicity event should have been totally safe. Only an hour of meeting and greeting children, and introducing Louis Tully as a fledgling Ghostbuster. A demonstration had been planned to show off the particle throwers at a low intensity setting, merely to blast some balloons out of the air and give the kids a fun light show to brag to all their friends about. An hour before the performance, Egon had swept the premises for valences with the PKE meter and come up with nothing. The building had been clear up until the point when they’d begun their presentation.

Unfortunately, poltergeists had no respect for Christmas, children, or toys. Halfway into the presentation, Egon had detected an energy surge on the PKE meter, and that was when the poltergeist decided to possess that accursed Gundam statue.

The RX-O Unicorn Gundam replica was a cold grey, standing at somewhere between twelve and fourteen feet high, and weighing hell knows how much. A combination of plastic, metal, and rubber - the beastly robotic sculpture had looked like some cool kid’s fantasy. That was before it had taken a step forward and punched its fist straight through a life size Barbie house. Peter and Ray had confronted the Gundam as they were the only two Ghostbusters wearing proton packs. During the time it had taken them to readjust the proton streams back to a lethal setting and start firing, the Gundam did a real number on the store, destroying everything in its path.

At one point, the Gundam swiped at them, knocking them both into one of the aisles. They had yet to regain their footing when Egon and Louis reentered the building after having evacuated the parents and children from the store. Peter wasn’t sure what happened next because he only heard a strangled scream of agony. He later learned, through Louis’ repeated confessions, that Louis had leapt out of the way of the Gundam, leaving Egon open to attack. And attack the Gundam had, stabbing Egon in the abdomen with the large horn that protruded from its head. Before anyone had been able to aid Egon, the possessed Gundam snapped off its horn with one massive rubber hand and forced it through Egon’s defenceless body. It tacked Egon to the floor like a broken rag doll, leaving him convulsing and bleeding for Peter to find.

From that point onward, Peter had been too stunned and distraught to participate in the defeat and capture of the poltergeist. He dimly remembered yanking open his flight suit and hastily pulling off the black t-shirt that he wore underneath. Without bothering to zip up his suit again, he had leaned heavily onto Egon, pressing the t-shirt against the stab wound. Sometime after that - it could have been seconds or minutes for all Peter knew - Winston had relieved him of his proton pack to continue the fight with Ray. After that, it was all a blur.

* * *

_Earlier on that morning..._

At nearly half past nine, Peter and Egon were still in bed and showed no signs of leaving it. Although they had been sleeping together for the past month and a half, they had no plans to buy a more suitably sized bed. Or - more accurately - no money for one.

Business had been slow since the beginning of November and Louis was still having no luck bringing the Ghostbusters onboard with his newly revised budget plan. Peter was constantly blowing his money on nice presents for Egon, and Egon had taken to charging all of the materials for his personal research projects on the company account. Ray was all over the place with his spending, whether it be on rotting imported books that Peter thought would be best served as firewood, or obscure tours of haunted houses in remote areas with limited access. And Winston was forever upgrading the Ectomobile with premium parts, as well as indulging himself in online digital library memberships.

So Peter and Egon were still sharing a double bed that had faulty springs and no headboard. Not that their spartan accommodations bothered them. They were too consumed with each other and their newfound happiness to care about where they slept, so long as they slept together. Peter loved waking up to the warm smell of Egon’s skin and the mass of dark auburn curls brushing against his neck and shoulder. Egon liked to snuggle against him as he slept, and those unruly curls of his went everywhere he did. The first time Peter had woken up with Egon in his arms, he had been bewildered to find the physicist looking like some character out of a romance novel. With those bedroom eyes of his and such lovely curly hair, Egon made getting out of bed nearly impossible for Peter. Without regular grooming and hairspray, Egon was almost unrecognizable in the morning, but not at all in a bad way.

“Are you guys getting up or what?” Winston muttered as he trudged through the bedroom in search of his socks.

“I think that Peter’s laziness is rubbing off on Egon.” Ray threw a pillow at their heads, which Peter easily deflected with his bare arm. “Come on, Venkman. We’re being paid for this event, so the least you can do is show up on time. You do still want that queen sized bed, don’t you?”

“Ray, I want the whole bedroom suite, along with the bedroom,” Peter grumbled sleepily, getting some of Egon’s hair in his mouth between words. “Egon, baby, you’re like a furry llama.” He stroked Egon’s locks into submission while fantasizing about converting either the laboratory or the third floor lounge into their own private bedroom. They had no privacy with Ray and Winston sleeping just across from them. The most they could get away with at night was the snuggling and kissing. Anything else and Winston threatened to lock them up on the roof to cool off. While there were two cots up on the third floor, they were old and shabby, and probably covered in mold. Aside from that, the entire third floor was a disorganized mess of undeveloped tech, partially finished experiments, and hazardous chemicals. No one in their right mind would want to sleep up there. As for the laboratory, Peter feared that Egon would have an intellectual meltdown if anyone dared to touch - much less move - any of his stuff.

“Your furry llama is hungry,” Egon murmured, his warm breath making the fine hairs on Peter’s chest bristle excitedly.

“Someone’s in a cute mood this morning.” Getting Egon to let down his guard while they were alone together was becoming a lot easier. When in Peter’s company, Egon was not always the stuffy uptight scientist that he led everyone to believe he was. Somewhere inside that introverted brain of his lurked a comedian just dying to get out. Perhaps a subtle, crafty comedian, but a comedian all the same. “Do you want bacon and eggs or pancakes?”

“We don’t have time for pancakes.” As usual, Winston was still lurking close enough to the bedroom to hear Peter’s enticing breakfast offer. “Get your asses out of bed - now - the both of you, or you’ll be tossed out in your underwear,” he threatened.

“For your information, Winston, I dress and behave decently while inhabiting this communal sleeping space,” Egon pointed out indignantly.

“He’s right. He’s wearing pajamas.” Peter defended Egon’s honor through muffled laughter. Egon was the only one who actually wore proper pajamas to bed, if cheerful red atoms and yellow molecules printed onto white cotton were what was passing for sleepwear nowadays. “I warn you, pull down those blankets and you’ll find out what I’m _not_ wearing to bed,” he challenged when Winston grabbed hold of a corner of the blankets.

“Ray, I’ve had it with these two. You get them out of bed!” Throwing his arms up into the air in frustration, Winston stomped out of the room without his socks.

“I think we had better get ready before Winston develops high blood pressure, or Ray comes after us with something toxic.” Contradicting his desire to move quickly, Egon kissed Peter at his own leisure, deliberately nudging Peter’s morning erection with his knee while he was at it.

“You little tease,” Peter growled against Egon’s parted lips. He grabbed Egon by the hip and shoulder, rolling him onto the bottom where he could kiss and grope some of the playfulness out of him. He absolutely adored Egon and couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Every day was full of new experiences and surprises with Egon by his side. Whereas he often found himself craving his own private time or personal space a few weeks into any relationship, he now felt like there wasn’t enough time in the day to spend with his lover. Instead of growing tired of Egon’s presence, he found that he was addicted to it.

After sharing a very long, intimate kiss, Peter retrieved Egon’s glasses from the nightstand and patted his lover on the backside.

“Out of bed with you, my sexy constellation.”

“They’re atoms, not constellations,” Egon corrected Peter as he pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and climbed out of bed.

“So says you.” Peter leaned over the far side of the bed, grabbed his navy blue track pants from the floor, and pulled them on under the sheets. Ray and Winston would most definitely freak out if they discovered that Peter slept in the nude beside Egon.


	2. Chapter 2

_Present..._

Peter’s hands were soaked with Egon’s blood, having kept up the pressure on the physicist’s abdominal wound until Winston had taken over. Egon’s dark grey flight suit was saturated in blood, although it was difficult to tell that it was blood because of the dark color of the material. They didn’t wear the dark grey suits often, saving them for special occasions like Christmas or promotional events. Back at the firehouse, Peter had complimented Egon on how sexy he looked in the darker color. It emphasized Egon’s slim physique and complemented his rich brown hair and dreamy brown eyes. That morning, Egon hadn’t had time to tame his curly locks, so Peter had pulled a Santa hat down over them, hiding the physicist’s slightly unprofessional appearance. Now that Santa hat was missing, presumably lost in the attack, and Egon’s hair was in disarray. His glasses were also bent on one side, making it difficult for Egon to see out of them. Not that Egon was making any effort to do so because he was in too much agony.

Keeping his eyes on Egon’s face was not easy because they kept straying to that wicked piece of metal protruding from Egon’s chest. Judging by the location where it was lodged, Peter guessed - and prayed - that it had missed any vital organs. The most important organ that the metal stake had missed was Egon’s heart, although it looked to be dangerously close to making contact with it. No one other than a qualified surgeon with nerves of steel and a delicate touch would be able to remove that weapon without causing Egon further injury.

Then there was the matter of the stab wound. Egon had lost so much blood already. If they didn’t stop the bleeding soon, and get Egon a blood transfusion, there could be irreparable damage that might hinder the physicist’s ability to function normally in the future. 

“Ray, what’s Egon’s blood type?” Peter asked, trying to think ahead to what type of information they would have to provide the first responders when they arrived.

“Egon’s... I... uh...” Ray fumbled with the settings on the thrower and avoided looking at Peter. Instead, he cast his gaze frantically in Winston’s direction. “Winston?”

“How the hell should I know?! Shit, man! Are you trying to tell me that you guys don’t keep records with important information like that?” Winston shot back. “What the hell did I fill out that bullshit medical questionnaire for when I first joined?”

“That was to screen potential candidates for drug dependencies and health problems,” Peter replied, feeling incredibly guilty and responsible for not having anticipated such an emergency arising sooner. “And you’re the only one who filled it out,” he added despondently. “Egon never had to...”

“Just calm down. There’s no need to panic,” Ray cut in before Winston could get anymore riled up over Peter’s incompetent management skills. “O negative is the universal blood type used in emergency transfusions when the recipient’s blood type is unknown. I’m O negative. If Egon needs blood, I’ll donate my blood at the hospital.”

Gently pushing Egon’s hair back off of his forehead, Peter tried to gauge the level of pain his lover was in. Seeing Egon’s normally vibrant brown eyes quickly losing their focus and intensity shook Peter to his core. Asking Egon for any medical information had now become pointless and impossible.

“Egon?” Peter just about lost it when he got no response. Egon was becoming weaker by the second and fading fast. The ambulance would never make it in time. And even if by some miracle it did, there was still the matter of sawing through that jagged metal stake without hurting Egon. The process of freeing Egon from the floor to which he was pinned could take more time than Egon was capable of holding on for. There was only one way to guarantee Egon’s survival - an unconventional method that had never been tested before. “Ray, get the trap!” Peter pleaded, his throat constricting painfully when Egon’s hand grew limp in his grip. “ _Egon_ , please, baby, hold on a little longer.”

Standing off to one side, the thrower now forgotten, Ray hesitated before responding to the request. “We’ve never tested—.”

“Well, test it now!” Peter growled angrily.

“Peter, you don’t understand. There’s a high possibility—.”

“He’s _dying_ , Ray! He isn’t going to make it!” The last few words came out choked as Peter lost the battle that he’d been fighting with his emotions. No longer able to remain impartial, Peter flew into a hysterical rage. “Egon is _my_ responsibility and this is _my_ decision! Get the _fucking_ trap, Ray!” Tears streaked down Peter’s red face as the lingering smoke finally began to irritate his lungs, causing him to begin to cough.

“Ray, there is no alternative,” Winston said in a calmer tone, but no less urgent. “I don’t know how much longer he’s gonna last.”

As if to emphasize Winston’s words, another heartbreaking cry of pain escaped Egon - this time barely audible to anyone not crouched by him - and then the physicist sagged lifelessly onto the floor.

“ _NO_!” Peter screamed, his whole world imploding on Egon’s final sound of suffering.

“Get clear!” Ray ordered as he dropped a trap down on Peter’s side. This trap was different from all the rest. Unlike the standard black traps with the striped black and yellow caution strips taped over the opening, this one was painted completely red and bore several black warning stickers. Egon hadn’t wanted anyone to mistakenly pick up this trap during a bust, so he had gone out of his way to make it highly distinguishable. While Egon had been fairly optimistic about the potential benefits of possessing such a trap, it had never been tested, for practical reasons. Ray was only holding onto it as a last resort because Egon had insisted that he do so. Because Egon had a knack for anticipating worst case scenarios and was never done preparing for them. “The second I close the trap, get back in there, Winston. He’s lost too much blood as is. Anymore and his corporeal form will be beyond saving.”

Winston released the pressure on Egon’s wound and rushed to get clear of the trap, but Peter did not. Peter automatically took Winston’s place, reapplying pressure to the wound and tearfully pleading for Egon to come back to him.

“Peter, move it!”

“He’ll never make it on his own.” Peter shook his head in outright refusal. “He’s too weak. I’m going with him.” He would have gladly risked his life for Egon while they were ‘just friends’, but now he was at the point where he would give his life for Egon if it came to that. Egon was an integral part of Peter’s life - an essential component in his existence - and he would be damned if he didn’t do everything possible to save him.

“What don’t you understand about this technology, Peter?” Ray argued desperately. “This whole idea of Egon’s is theoretical. There’s no way of knowing what the outcome will be. Even if you both survive the initial entrapment, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to reintroduce your spirits to your physical bodies.”

“You’ll figure out a way,” Peter insisted. “Egon entrusted you with his notes. If you can’t do it, no one can.”

Realizing that time was of the essence and that Peter was not about to change his mind, Ray retreated to a safe distance. “Peter...”

“Just do it.” There was no time to wish him good luck and no words that could ever get across what they meant to each other. These men were more than his comrades and closer than family, but Egon was everything to him. Any sacrifice Peter made would be worth it if it meant saving Egon.

The sound of Ray stomping on the trap was instantly followed by a blinding blue light, and then a sucking sensation that stretched to the confines of Peter’s consciousness. He felt like he was being torn from his body, liberating him at first as the constraints of his physical form were removed. But then he was being yanked down into an elongated tunnel which swirled around him, causing him to lose his bearings and sense of equilibrium. The sound was deafening. Peter likened it to turning a Dyson vacuum cleaner on full power and then sticking his head inside. That would also account for the tremendous pull he felt on his spiritual essence, threatening to shred it as it was channeled down into the trap.

Throughout the entire stressful ordeal, Peter refused to release Egon, their hands joined on the spiritual plane as well as the physical one.Although he couldn’t see, he could feel Egon being dragged into the trap with him, their essences combining and separating as they descended down into the virtual world that Egon had prepared inside that small metallic box. Then they were being released, the scorching light fading off into the distance. Slowly, a grid-like pattern appeared above and all around them, imprisoning them in the trap that Egon had designed for containing live spirits.

* * *

_Two weeks ago..._

Lingering by the entranceway to Egon’s laboratory, Peter watched his beloved physicist with a strong sense of pride. What was Egon inventing this time? Peter had no idea. What he did know was that whatever Egon was creating in such an entranced state of inspiration had to be incredible. Because Egon was incredible. Peter was in love with a genius whom he still hadn’t figured out how to properly communicate with, but he was totally okay with it. Cracking the mystery that was Egon was now a full-time hobby for Peter, and he was having one heck of a good time with it.

“In some states your behavior would be considered stalking,” Egon said mildly, without looking up from what he was doing.

“I’m just admiring the view.” Peter smirked when Egon self-consciously shifted to one side so that Peter would not be directly behind him. “Y’know, while the mice are away, the cat comes out to play.”

“I believe that you have that proverb in reverse.”

Slightly disappointed that Egon was still refusing to look in his direction, Peter cautiously crept into the lab. “What’re you working on?”

“A trap.”

Once again, Egon’s social skills were failing him. Where normal conversation was concerned, with Egon it was always two steps forward and one giant leap back. Every time Peter assumed he was making progress with integrating Egon into society, the stubborn intellect retreated into his shell. The only way to get him out again was to poke him and then initiate a passionate make-out session. This Peter did not mind. In fact, it was the main reason why he had come looking for Egon in the first place.

“I can see that it looks like a trap, but why is it red?” As soon as the question left Peter’s lips, he knew that he had made a mistake.

“To differentiate it from the regular traps that we use on paranormal entities.” And then Egon was launching into a very detailed explanation of what it was he was developing. “I have noticed a growing trend of violent behavior directed towards you while we are out on the field, Peter. While I am unsure as to the reason for this particular disdain for either you or your magnetic personality, what I am sure of is that you are taking unnecessary risks on the job. Despite numerous warnings from myself and the others, you continue to belligerently antagonize the entities that we are called to apprehend. Therefore, in the event that you were to provoke something into doing you bodily harm, I have devised a way of increasing your survival rate. While our standard traps are designed to target and isolate the paranormal, this one will single out living spirits that exist on a separate plane from their deceased counterparts. However, its function will remain unchanged from that of the other traps, which is to contain the spirit inside this vessel. By separating the spirit from its corporeal form, both can go on existing independently until one or the other recovers from whatever damage it has sustained.”

Peter’s expression tightened upon learning of Egon’s unspoken fears. As he understood it - and he usually understood very little of what Egon said when he was being technical - the physicist wasn’t building something in order to advance technology or better the world - he was creating something that would protect Peter in a worst case scenario.

Crossing the room in two long strides, Peter swiftly took Egon into his arms and held him close. “I’m not going anywhere, Egon. I may have a big mouth, but I’m not an idiot. There’s always a method to my madness.”

“Even so,” Egon protested, clinging to Peter a little too tightly, “you cannot predict how your psychological manipulation techniques will affect each and every threat that we find ourselves faced with. The next time...”

“You’re not gonna lose me. I promise I’ll be more careful from here on, okay?”

“Peter...,” Egon sighed tiredly.

“I know, my promises aren’t worth shit most of the time. But I’m gonna make an extra effort in your case, Sp—. Egon.” Peter’s old nickname for Egon almost sprung up again, but he quickly corrected himself. He had stopped using it after their first evening of shared intimacy. This was not some casual fling that Peter saw himself growing tired of in the future, so he felt it necessary to refer to Egon with love and respect. Besides, he really liked Egon’s name and the way it escaped him when he was making love to the physicist. “I won’t leave you alone, Egon. You won’t be alone ever again.” He felt Egon tense up and then tremble a little as one of his most dreaded fears was uttered aloud. There was no need for Egon to state what Peter already knew. Although Peter probably wouldn’t have gotten his parapsychology degree if it hadn’t been for Egon’s perseverance and tutelage, his psychology qualifications were the end result of years of physical and mental exhaustion. Thanks to his dedication to his first major, Peter could analyze and influence the thoughts and feelings of others - Egon included. But Peter had never realized just how lonely Egon was until he’d started dating him.

Not knowing what else he could say to Egon that would alleviate the physicist’s anxiety, Peter decided to go about things in a more physical manner. Cupping the back of Egon’s head, Peter held him still and moved in close to gently kiss him. The second his lips grazed Egon’s, the physicist leaned into the kiss. Any other time, Peter might have teased Egon about being needy, but not now. Not when Egon was in need of some tenderness and reassurance.

“Is there anything sharp or explosive on the work table?” Peter asked as he slid his lips over Egon’s, angling them just right so that he could probe deep inside Egon’s mouth with his tongue.

Egon moaned and gave himself to the kiss, only giving a slight nod to indicate that ‘yes’ there was at least one item on the table’s surface capable of injuring or killing them both. Then, wrapping both arms around Peter’s shoulders, Egon closed his eyes and began to teasingly suck on Peter’s tongue.

Peter felt a shiver go up his spine as the kiss grew hot and demanding. For someone as shy and inexperienced as Egon, the physicist sure knew how to push all of Peter’s buttons. Just that minor stimulation was enough to awaken Peter’s overactive libido and to cause the crotch of his jeans to become painfully constrictive. But there would be no screwing Egon over the table today due to the dangers that lurked on it. And he couldn’t very well take Egon to their sleeping quarters because Winston was down there taking a nap. Sometimes he had to satisfy himself with the kisses and a little friendly ass grabbing while the others were present in the building.

“I got you a little something today,” Peter murmured between kisses. He moved off a bit to nuzzle Egon’s neck, inching his mouth upwards until he located the spot that caused his lover to groan with pleasure. “Damn you’re sensitive,” he mused as he kissed Egon there.

“Again?” Egon asked breathlessly, his head tilted back and his fingers biting into Peter’s biceps.

When Egon gave a sharp cry, Peter momentarily stopped. “Too much for you?”

“N—no. Please... don’t stop.”

Peter buried his face against Egon’s neck and licked wetly up to Egon’s ear, where he traced his way inwards with the tip of his tongue. “Still okay?” He flicked his tongue inside the curve of Egon’s ear, earning himself a shaky moan from the physicist and deeper indentations on his biceps. “Don’t you want to know what I got you?”

“Ahhh...,” Egon gasped as he was attacked by the combined sensations of Peter’s tongue and his hot breath. “P—Peter... no more...” He tensed up and moaned again when Peter stroked his tongue in a little deeper. “I can’t...”

“Ask me,” Peter coaxed as he slid one hand over Egon’s chest, locating the physicist’s right nipple through his dress shirt. He began to firmly rub the nipple through the fabric with his thumb, until it became quite hard and visible despite the undershirt that Egon was wearing underneath.

“Okay, okay,” Egon acquiesced. His cheeks and neck were now quite flushed and he was leaning into Peter’s touch despite his best attempts to resist temptation. “What did you get me?”

“Are you going to promise to use it?”

“No— Yes!” Egon nearly lost his balance when Peter wedged one knee between his thighs, just barely brushing up against his erection. “Peter, _please_ , it’s enough,” he pleaded. “Ray could come up here at any moment.”

Well, that was one fine way to kill the mood. The last person Peter wanted to see while he was seducing Egon was Ray. Knowing how enthusiastic Ray was about everything, he would probably take one look at the way Peter was unraveling Egon and declare that it was ‘ _fantastic_ ’ without a second thought as to how his reaction might be interpreted.

“Easy there,” Peter said soothingly as he allowed Egon to recover some of his personal space. “Y’know, for someone who just asked me to stop, you’re really difficult to detach.”

Now looking quite embarrassed, Egon released Peter’s arms and made an effort to stand up straight again on his own. But he wouldn’t fool anyone, not with how hot and bothered he looked. “I am reluctant to ask this of you, Peter, but I think that we need to conduct ourselves with more professionalism when in the workplace.”

“I hear you. We need more privacy. I’m working on it but, in the meantime, you’re just going to have to learn how to cool off after we’re done fooling around. Unless you don’t want to fool around anymore...?” Peter left the threat unsaid, grinning when Egon gave him a panicked look.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Just wanted to clarify things, that’s all.” Once Egon looked like he was in no danger of ejaculating in his pants, Peter tugged him close again. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Must you be so untrusting and suspicious? Just close your eyes.” As soon as Egon had done so, Peter shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew a silver pendant hanging from a thin chain. He reached behind Egon’s neck with both hands and fumbled with the lobster claw latch, successfully securing the necklace on the fourth try. “Okay, open them.”

At first, Egon simply ran the chain between his thumb and index finger, measuring its diameter and weight. Then, he lifted the pendant up in order to inspect it... and smiled. And it wasn’t a phony smile, or a faint smile for the sake of being polite. It was a genuinely pleased smile that made Egon practically glow with happiness. Out of all the failed presents that Peter had attempted to give Egon in the past, this was the only one that passed the inspection test. The designer watch Egon had placed back into the box before asking Peter if he could have the receipt in order to return it. A box of expensive chocolates hadn’t garnered much of a reaction from Egon other than a ponderous “ _hmmm_ ,” as the physicist analyzed the individual flavors. Flowers had been met with a raised eyebrow, and the department store cologne used as an air freshener. Peter had begun to think that Egon was either deceptively high maintenance or unbelievably dense after the physicist asked him who Gucci was upon receiving a new wallet for his birthday. But a tiny mushroom-shaped trinket on a chain lit up Egon’s eyes like it was the best present ever.

“You’re not gonna ask for the receipt or try to return it, are you?” Peter asked just to be sure. It had taken him forever to find a shop that sold odd pendants and charms, and even longer for him to go through the inventory looking for something that Egon might like.

“That would be a terrible waste,” Egon said hastily. “I doubt that anyone else would appreciate it as much as I will. Thank you, Peter.”

When Egon continued to admire and trace the mushroom with his fingers, it struck Peter that this was the first present that the physicist had ever received from anyone who wasn’t a family member. That made it all worth it. Seeing Egon happy, now wearing a constant reminder of Peter’s unconditional love, made Peter never want to let him go.

“Egon, baby, I have what might sound like an idiotic question,” Peter said when Egon finally released the pendant to let it fall just below his collarbone. “How do you know that separating a spirit from its body won’t kill the body? I mean, doesn’t the body need the spirit to power it? Wouldn’t it just be an empty shell without the spirit?”

“The spirit won’t be entirely cut off from the body,” Egon said, his mood still quite bright thanks to the unexpected gift. “It will merely be distanced from it. The spirit will remain tethered to the body until the life signs flatline. Or if the distance between them is too great for the connection to be maintained, the spirit will be cut loose. Either outcome will be disastrous for the spirit.”

“That’s one hell of an understatement. Do me a favor and try not to cut my spirit loose if you ever have to use that thing.”

“If I ever do have to activate that particular trap, I promise you that I will personally ensure that your spirit suffers no ill effects,” Egon promised sincerely. “I never want to lose you, Peter, and I will do everything within my power to ensure that I don’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

“It would’ve taken an extra twenty minutes - tops,” Ray muttered under his breath as he hung back, letting the medics do their job.

“Huh?” Winston wiped the perspiration from his face with the back of his free hand, before glancing up at his friend and teammate. Ray was clutching that red trap against his chest, keeping it in an upright position and trying not to jostle it too much. It may as well have been an urn for all Winston cared. From the time Ray opened the trap to the moment he closed it, Winston had seen jack shit. No spirits had been sucked into the trap - at least no visible ones - and the trap was not registering any presences inside it. The tiny meter on the side of the trap indicating the total volume of spirits contained within was still sitting on the 0 mark. Which was pretty funny because not only was Egon comatose and barely registering any life signs, but Peter was also unconscious and utterly unresponsive beside him. Wherever their spirits were, they certainly weren’t in their respective hosts. But from what Winston could see, neither were they in the trap.

“The pancakes,” Ray said to alleviate Winston’s confusion. “Why didn’t you let Peter make Egon those pancakes?”

“Man, what the fuck are you talking about?” Winston asked incredulously, nearly releasing the pressure from Egon’s wound to confront Ray. “I’m on my knees here, elbow deep in Egon’s blood, watching a pair of inexperienced medics try to fit him with a neck brace - something they obviously don’t know how to do - and you’re going on about pancakes?!”

“All I’m saying is that depriving Egon of a sufficient caloric intake for breakfast might have interfered with his judgment this morning.”

“Are you trying to say that Egon walked into the line of fire because he didn’t get his pancakes?! Are you for real, man?! Puttin’ that shit on me, like it’s _my_ fault Egon got attacked!”

“What?” Ray glanced over at Winston in a sort of daze. “No. I didn’t mean it that way...”

“Then how _did_ you mean it?!”

Still cradling that trap close to his chest, like it was the most precious thing in the world, Ray replied to Winston in a miserable tone. “It’s just that Egon always neglects himself. He never eats properly... or at regular intervals... Without Peter to look after him...”

“Don’t you dare,” Winston threatened when Ray began to sniffle. “You can bawl your eyes out when this is all over. Until then, suck it up and hold it together.”

“We’re ready to move Doctor Spengler,” the young female medic announced. She and her partner had finally finished securing Egon to the stretcher. Getting Egon onto that stretcher was a piece of cake compared to what Ray and Winston had needed to do before they arrived. Winston had been forced to carefully slide his legs beneath Egon, suspending the physicist a few inches off of the ground, and risk nudging that lethal looking piece of metal against Egon’s heart. He had also kept Egon from bleeding out while Ray zapped a clean line across the metal embedded into the floor with his adjusted proton beam. It was a miracle that Ray hadn’t accidentally burnt either Egon’s back or Winston’s legs in the process.

“It’s imperative that Doctor Spengler not be separated from either Doctor Venkman or this trap.” Ray bottled up his emotions and began to give orders to the medics, acting like he was in command.

 _That’s more like it_ , Winston inwardly cheered. There was no way Winston was going to take responsibility for this godawful catastrophe. The only thing he knew about the traps was that they opened and closed. And he knew even less about how to track down missing spirits, unless they were of the dead and disorderly type that showed up on the PKE meter. And, even then, Egon was the one who usually operated said meter. If Ray fell apart, Winston would be helpless to save either Egon or Peter.

“Doctor Spengler and Doctor Venkman need to be transported to the hospital in the same ambulance, along with this trap. Removing Doctor Venkman from within close proximity of Doctor Spengler will result in the latter’s immediate death. Similarly, if the distance between either man and this trap extends too far, both men will undoubtedly perish. Have I made myself understood?”

“Um... okay?” The male medic said in a bewildered tone. “But isn’t that one of your ghost boxes? I don’t think we’re allowed to put haunted boxes into the ambulance... And I’m pretty sure that the emergency room would have a problem with it even if we did.”

“We refer to these ‘boxes’ as _traps_ , as they are so identified in the patent obtained by Doctor Spengler. They are entirely safe when handled with the proper care and diligence. This one in particular is a new model that has been designed to hold the live spirits of the critically injured. Doctor Spengler and Doctor Venkman’s spirits are contained within this trap, making it of the utmost importance that it be handled with care and protected at all costs.”

Winston watched the two green medics exchange a long look between them, before they gestured to Peter, who had yet to be put on a stretcher.

“But Doctor Venkman has no visible injuries,” the mousy brunette stated in bewilderment. “Why was his spirit put into the trap?”

Fed up with all the _Doctor_ this and _Doctor_ that, Winston rushed to answer the question before Ray could feed the two young medics a cosmetically altered, long-winded explanation. “Egon was near death and probably wouldn’t have survived the trip, so Pete went with him.” Just as the male medic began to open his mouth to ask the most obvious question, Winston beat him to it by sharing his own interpretation of what had gone down. “Yeah, Pete just up and voluntarily committed suicide for a fellow colleague. That about sums it up.”

“Winston, that’s not what happened,” Ray protested. “And Egon is far dearer to Peter than just as a _colleague_. Surely you must know how much Peter loves Egon by now. You would do the same for a loved one.”

At that, Winston laughed darkly and shook his head in disbelief. “Man, if those two make it out of this, you’re gonna be the one to explain how they got outed.”

“Shit,” Ray hissed softly, too embarrassed to raise his head to see the wide-eyed looks on the two medics who had just received some enlightenment on the relationship between the leader of the Ghostbusters and his inseparable best friend. “Keep that off the record,” he warned, as if he could intimidate the medics into doing just that.

“Oh, we will. We promise,” the male medic assured them a little too hastily.

 _Bullshit_ , Winston thought to himself. The second Peter and Egon were in the clear, that man was going to blab to the nearest news outlet. Nothing assured silence better than money and the Ghostbusters were not in any position to bribe these two screwups with it. _If_ Peter and Egon survived this, they were going to find their lives turned upside down as soon as Ray figured out a way to make them whole again.

* * *

Rolling hills, green meadows with blossoming flowers, and a warm blue sky is how Egon most likely envisioned Heaven. There would be a shallow river with lots of colorful fish and a forest moving off into the horizon. Just to be thorough, Peter filled that forest with as many different varieties of fungi as he could visually bring to mind. Of course, he had no clue what any of them were called, just that he had seen them at one time or another in Egon’s laboratory or in a textbook. Seeing as how Egon was cold and shivering, Peter consciously raised the ambient temperature by a few degrees.

While Peter was playing god, he held Egon protectively in his arms. The physicist was not reacting to anything Peter did or said, regardless of the fact that Peter was absorbing most of Egon’s pain. The first thing he’d discovered upon being sucked into the trap was that his spirit was now capable of merging with Egon’s. And one side effect of that merging was that Peter could sense what Egon was feeling, as well as siphon off the physicist’s overwhelming agony and fear. It was a startling realization, especially for someone who considered ESP and telepathy to be a load of crap. Even after years of Ghostbusting, Peter remained skeptical about many aspects of his occupation, one of which was the ability to communicate by using the mind alone. He was probably biased after spending a semester at Columbia University testing the effects of negative reinforcement on psychic ability. Not only had he never believed in the theory himself, but he’d also used it as a pickup tactic on gullible freshmen. Pretty freshmen with blond hair, long legs, and an interest in banging authority figures. No wonder he’d been kicked out in disgrace.

Peter strained his eyes, trying to see if he could locate the boundaries of their constrained environment. Amazingly, the space inside seemed to stretch to infinity, adapting to Peter’s skeptical gaze by moving further and further away from him. The technical aspects of the workings of the trap were over his head, so he wasn’t certain if the expanding dimensions was a good thing or a bad thing. The only thing that he understood was his ability to mold their environment to his liking. If he wanted there to be sunshine, there would be sunshine. And if his twisted imagination conjured up neon pink clouds and grazing rabbits that shimmered with multicolored crystals and flecks of pure gold, like a Swarovski commercial gone bad, then that’s what they’d be stuck with. Let Egon analyze every bizarre element that Peter had inserted into an otherwise normal countryside. That ought to keep the little brainiac occupied and happy.

“Egon, are you listening? I’ve got some four-winged birds flying around in the background and a bunch of insects piled on top of each other on that hill over there. There are shiny beetles and grasshoppers... and some gross shit in a cocoon. _Yuck_! Come to think of it, I don’t even know if you like insects. I’ve never seen any in your collection.” Peter furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to recall what Egon had in his laboratory. Mushrooms, weird looking fuzz in Petri dishes, and more mushrooms. Nope, no insects. Just to be on thesafe side, Peter willed the swarm of insects out of existence. “I think I’m getting the hang of this. It’s pretty neat being able to create our own little paradise. Much easier than trying to do tax returns.”

The last time Peter had tried his hand at taxes, the Ghostbusters had been audited by the IRS. That certainly hadn’t been fun. The only person who had relished Peter’s idiocy was Louis since he was hired on the spot to clean up the mess Peter had made. Although, Peter thought it strange that Egon, who was a polymath genius, couldn’t set aside a few minutes to learn how to use the online tax return program that Janine had downloaded. Then again, deep down, Egon was just like any other human being. There were things - like managing the books - that Egon felt were beneath him and therefore couldn’t be bothered with. The only difference between the average human and Egon was that Egon suppressed his disdain for activities he didn’t care for, or reacted so subtly that no one but Peter noticed.

Gazing down into Egon’s face, Peter was greatly disturbed to find his lover’s expression still strained with agony. Even unconscious and separated from his horribly maltreated body, Egon was suffering. Had Peter not accompanied him on this unprecedented journey, Egon would have most certainly died. No, not only died. Died with his spirit exiled to this compartmentalized limbo that was about as real as Peter’s phony American Express Centurion Card.

“It’s not nice to ignore Doctor Venkman,” Peter gently chastised Egon. “In case you weren’t aware of this, I have a latent heart condition. Give me too much stress and my heart could literally implode.”

“That is... scientifically... impossible,” Egon weakly groaned.

Feeling like he had just won the lottery, Peter hugged Egon carefully, covering his face with grateful kisses. “Thank god! Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” He watched Egon closely, looking down into his pale face, and waited for him to open his eyes. In this world, Egon’s flight suit was unmarred and nothing protruded from his chest. He was dressed just as neatly as Peter, who had discovered his t-shirt and the top of his uniform covering his upper torso again upon entering the trap. Egon was also wearing the necklace Peter had given him, although that Santa hat was nowhere to be found. Perhaps their spirits recognized their default appearances and stuck to them, instead of dragging real life injuries and lodged weapons into this virtual world.

“Peter...?” Egon’s eyelids fluttered open and he stared off into the space above Peter’s head in distress.

“What is it, sweetheart? Was the candy bar tree overdoing it? I thought you’d get a kick out of it.” How Peter adored Egon’s big brown eyes. The geeky glasses were a nice touch, too, as they magnified them even more.

“There is no such tree,” Egon tiredly contradicted Peter. “Would it be too much... to ask... for you to create a more pleasant... atmosphere?” He sank back into Peter’s arms, the act of speaking having drained him completely.

“Egon, c’mon! I made the clouds pink, for crying out loud. What more do you want me to—?” As Peter turned his head to gesture to the clouds, he lost his train of thought. Something was terribly wrong. During the brief period of time that he’d spent interacting with Egon, the entire landscape had been altered. The sky was now the color of fresh blood, black jagged rain clouds were pushing inwards from the east, and the ground was littered with bones. There was no longer a fungi forest or an amusing pack of rabbits on the hillside. But the insects had returned, this time bigger and uglier, crawling towards them in a sea of black, brown, and grey. “Holy shit! Egon, get up!” Peter hoisted Egon to his feet, cringing when his lover cried out with pain. “I’m sorry, but you’ve gotta move. Now!” The sea was rising before Peter’s eyes, growing in height as the swarm neared them.

“That isn’t you?” Egon asked in shock, clinging to Peter as he was half carried, half dragged in the opposite direction.

“Do I look like a psychopath to you?” Peter shot back tensely. He kept his arm firmly wrapped around Egon, moving along at a quick lopsided pace.

“This environment... it is sustained by our spirits... our thoughts.” Egon made a horrible pained sound when Peter failed to support him properly over some of the rougher terrain. Rushing through a bony graveyard was not doing Egon’s weakened spirit any favors, but it was preferable to being drowned in insects. “If neither of us is responsible... for this...”

“Then we came in with a stowaway,” Peter finished for Egon. “But how could that have happened? Winston was out of range and Ray was at the end of the trap. Even if it had been one of them, they wouldn’t be trying to kill us with phantom bugs.”

“Louis?” Egon coughed, clawing at Peter’s shoulder when he began to slip downwards.

“I was too busy concentrating on you to keep track of where he got to.” Peter readjusted his grip on Egon, holding him tightly when he tripped over one of the bigger bones lying on the ground. It looked like a femur, but Peter wasn’t sure what kind of animal would’ve been constructed with one that big. “Even then, why would Louis be turning our environment into a Halloween house of horrors?”

“The poltergeist...”

“What about it?” Peter yelped when something prickly hit him on the head. Looking up, his heart just about stopped when he saw that it was now raining pieces of cacti. Some segments were big enough to flatten them, while others possessed needles so long and thick that they could take out an eye or rip through their flesh. “Get down!” He yanked Egon to the ground and enveloped him in his arms, protecting Egon’s head and face as he forced his mind to envision a burrow in the valley of bones. A cave might have worked even better, but Peter’s imagination was shit under pressure. At the last possible second, a secluded den comprised of dirt, roots, and moss rose up out of the ground to engulf them inside it. A heartbeat later, the ground shook with the force of hundreds of cacti pummelling the place where they had been cowering.

For what seemed like an eternity, Peter held Egon inside their protective enclosure, feeling him tremble with each and every onslaught that tore up the ground above their heads. It was a long time before it stopped, and many more minutes before Peter dared to speak again.

“Are you okay?”

Egon remained where he was, panting hard and shaking all over. “Not really.”

“You were saying about the poltergeist?”

“Did you witness it being sucked into the trap?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to look into the traps?” Peter asked accusingly. “Now you’re asking me if I watched it go in? Which is it? Look or don’t look?”

“It’s a simple... question.”

“No, I did not see it go into the trap. Ray and Winston caught it. But to be honest, we were all a little distracted after having watched you get skewered. Jeez, Egon, what the hell were you thinking? You can’t just go running into the danger zone without a proton pack!”

“I saw you get hit,” Egon said with terrible sadness. “I thought...”

Sighing heavily, Peter threaded his fingers through Egon’s thick wavy locks, and leaned forward to kiss him. It was only a light, reassuring kiss, because there wasn’t much time for anything else, but it seemed to lift Egon’s spirits. “Next time think about yourself before you worry about others, or else you’ll end up being the cause of that worry,” Peter scolded him.

“That’s unnaturally poetic of you, Peter,” Egon noted with a faint smile.

“What can I say? I’m multitalented.” Peter’s stomach lurched with dismay when he saw giant legs digging through the dirt in the effort to get to them.

“What?” Egon asked without looking up.

So the link went both ways. Egon was also capable of picking up on whatever Peter was feeling. Peter had been grateful for the ability to ease Egon’s pain, although he could have done without the bitch of a headache that doing so produced. But he wasn’t so sure that he wanted Egon receiving broadcasts of all his emotions, especially the unmanly ones that shrieked at the sight of giant cockroaches.

“Are you a fan of roaches?” Peter asked in as mild a tone as he could manage while dragging Egon further back into their claustrophobic den.

“How big?” Egon gripped Peter’s arm hard as soon as he heard the scuttling sound moving in their direction.

“Judging by your reaction I think that you really don’t want to know.”

“We need a river,” Egon said with great urgency. “A river with a fast moving current.”

“We had a river—.”

“Make another one!”

It was nice to know that the scientific types were just as put off by nasty cockroaches as the regular folk. Not many things could get Egon _that_ excited so quickly. “I’m trying. It would help if you added your creativity to mine. You may not know this but I failed art class... back in first grade.” Peter bumped his shoulder against the far wall of the den and yelped. They were out of space and that cockroach was wiggling its way through the dirt towards them. It was gigantic! Bigger than a full-sized man and twice as wide. What if the damn thing could fly?!

“I’m afraid that I require my concentration _elsewhere_ ,” Egon replied apologetically.

Peter felt a wave of pain radiate off of Egon and immediately regretted goading him into participating. Egon needed to focus all of his energy on not dying. The physicist literally had no energy to spare on battling mutant cockroaches or mentally reinventing their landscape.

“Can you swim?” Peter asked just for the sake of engaging Egon in a conversation to get his mind off of the pain. He was envisioning a long narrow river rushing through a valley, with the force of the waves crashing against small sharp rocks, when Egon shook his head in the negative. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—!” Whatever else Peter was going to say was cut off by the heavy gush of water that ploughed through the den. It washed away the cockroach, but it knocked Peter off of his feet and nearly yanked Egon out of his arms. “Hold on!” They were whisked away by the onslaught of water, which carried them out of the darkness and into a dull mountain range. Peter was making the background up as he went, feeding it pieced-together imagery from the various movies that he’d recently seen on his cell phone. He often watched movies that way when Ray or Winston were driving. It sure beat listening to those two debating theology.

As Peter was fighting to remain above water, kicking his legs with all his might to resist being towed under, he did his best not to shut down in terror. In truth, he wasn’t the best of swimmers himself. The most experience he had with water was showing off his newly developed six-pack at some girl’s backyard swimming pool in college. He’d spent all of fifteen minutes actually in the pool and the rest doing more unconventional things inside the house.

When Egon began to choke and sputter on the water, struggling against both Peter and the current, Peter frantically supplied their interactive environment with more input. Egon was in no condition to be running from insects or battered by a fast flowing river. He had already been put through too much. If Peter didn’t get him somewhere safe where he could rest and recuperate, Egon would be as good as dead.

Abruptly, the river became shallower, allowing Peter to drag his boots along the bottom. A few meters later and the water completely disappeared, which resulted in Peter collapsing onto a patch of grass with Egon on top of him.

“When we get outta this,” Peter coughed, trying to catch his breath, “we’re all gonna be taking mandatory swimming lessons.”

“Agreed,” Egon wheezed in exhaustion.

“Oh Egon! Peter!” A cheerful voice, albeit an unpleasant sounding one, sang out to them. “If the cockroach isn’t to your liking, I have snakes and tarantulas.”

“Don’t move,” Peter cautioned in a low voice by Egon’s ear. He willed their surrounding area to populate itself with an army of tall trees, overgrown bushes, large boulders, and deep pits. Anything to keep Louis distracted and as far away from them as possible.

“You know the great thing about placing all these trees and bushes so close together?” Louis called out in amusement. A second later, the voice that continued sounded nothing like Louis. It was maniacal and filled with sadistic delight. “When they burn, they all burn at once.”

Peter was still digesting the words the possessed spirit of Louis had spoken when the bushes all around them burst into flames.


End file.
